


swarm

by moonstruckmidnight



Series: no place like home [1]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Family Issues, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Worldbuilding, Zaun Culture, Zaun Politics, for lux AND ezreal, it's a 2 for 1, lenare is only mentioned in this but she's generally important, lowkey, not very plot-critical apart from being plot devices, the OCs are just here for some padding, we're really just here for lux-ezreal friendship, wlw/mlm solidarity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstruckmidnight/pseuds/moonstruckmidnight
Summary: Lux and Ezreal go on an adventure. It is, unfortunately, complicated.
Relationships: Luxanna "Lux" Crownguard & Ezreal
Series: no place like home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870843
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	swarm

“I can’t believe this,” Lux hears, and that’s all the warning she has to yank her project out of the way before Ezreal pops into being just above the table in a burst of bright blue. He lands on the table with a soft thud, talking the whole time. Lux resettles her project on the remaining space as he continues rambling.

“God, I just—can you—they’re _hiding_ things from me, Lux!” He runs his fingers through golden hair, pushing up into a sitting position. “I don’t even know _what_ it is, do you realize how _annoying_ this is?”

“Oh, no,” says Lux, dry as dust. “Imagine hiding something from a Piltie. The _audacity.”_

Her project hums under her fingers as she coaxes it to life, a glowing noxious green that shouldn’t make her feel better but does anyway, because she never learned how to renounce what she should never have had. Lux’s fingers twitch against the glass and the light goes out, plunging the workshop back into darkness apart from the faint light filtering through cracks in the ceiling and Ezreal’s blinking, pulsing gauntlet.

“Exactly!” exclaims Ezreal, barely visible in the greenish gloom. “What are they going to do, hate me for forever because I’m from Piltover?”

“Ezreal.” Lux taps the butt of a wrench against the glass sphere at the top of her creation, which, since she apparently _blew it out_ , is dark despite everything looking like it should be working. Fuck. “That was sarcasm.”

“...oh.” It sounds like Ezreal’s frowning, but it’s too dark to see for sure. “I hate sarcasm.”

“It’s not that bad once you know to listen for it.” Fuck, she’s going to have to dismantle this whole thing and start again. Find where ~~her~~ the magic blew through it. Lux always just makes more problems for herself. “The real part then is figuring out what _isn’t_ sarcasm.”

Ezreal groans. “Am I just supposed to assume that every compliment I get is sarcasm?”

“...honestly? Probably the best option.” Lux shrugs. “Zaunites don’t really give compliments.”

“You’re a Zaunite,” says Ezreal. Lux pauses, stares down at her project.

_You’re a Zaunite._

No. No, she’s not. But she’s not Demacian. Not anymore. 

(The lights in the street outside her hideaway workshop flicker warningly, but don’t go out. Neither of them notice.)

The silence draws on awkwardly, but it doesn’t seem to affect Ezreal. Lux sighs and shrugs. “Have I ever given you a compliment?”

Ezreal thinks. “No, not really.”

“Then there you have it.” Lux flips the wrench in her hand to get at the other end. It’s melted, bent, but it should work for this screw. The metal screeches as she gets to work.

“You’re not going to turn on a light?” Ezreal says, and Lux goes stiff.

“Did you have a point coming here?” she snaps, a sharp tone in her voice that even _Ezreal_ can’t miss. He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. (His gauntlet is flaring blue, and it feels like a wash of lightning, static, metal on her tongue. Lux’s fingers are hurting-tight around her wrench.)

“Hey, chill,” says Ezreal. “I’m just asking a question.”

“Bad question.” Lux pops the glass top off her project to get a look at the bulb underneath. It’s too dark to see if there’s anything obviously wrong. “Come over here, I need your glove.”

“Or you could turn the lights on,” Ezreal mumbles under his breath. Lux pretends not to hear, because she really _does_ need to get this done. “What are you building, anyway?”

“My pass to be unharassed for a day,” she mutters to herself. Louder, she says, “Something for Lenare. Only reason I’m not a snipe.”

“Lenare?”

Lux grabs Ezreal’s arm and pulls, overbalancing a little so she can view the bulb in the fluctuating blue light. She knows better than to touch the metal, is a little surprised that Ezreal can with how hot it is, waves of heat rolling off it. Sweat beads at her hairline. “Baron Velveteen Lenare. The only reason I’m not a snipe.”

The only reason she really has to tolerate Ezreal. Anyone else, she could throw out. But Ezreal… well. He could always teleport back in, which she would say to anyone else as the reason she let him hang around, but she— she has power. If she needed to use it…

(A pillar of light becoming a laser of terror. Bursts of light. Screaming.)

~~(Darkness.)~~

If she needed to use it, she could use it. She could use it, and he would leave. But she can’t, because of Lenare.

(She won’t, because she won’t do it again.)

Bulb’s fine, which means it’s a problem with the wiring. She’s going to have to take everything apart, huh. Lux shoves Ezreal’s arm away with a touch more force than she technically needs to do, scowling.

“...what’s wrong with being a sniper?”

Well. Sun’s almost down. She’s blown out her light. She doesn’t want to touch the thing spitting sparks down in the core of her. All that combines to one thing: Lux isn’t going to get any further with her project today. She glances at Ezreal, who seems honestly concerned, so she sighs and pushes him into a lump of metal that could generously be called a chair..

“Sumpsnipe, Ezreal. Not a sniper.” She shakes her head. “Sumpsnipes. Scavengers. They’re in danger, all the time, by whatever punk decides to come by. I—” (could fight, if I had to, if I needed to) “—I’m not suited for that.”

“So you invent instead?”

Lux shrugs. “It’s easier work. Not always in the muck.” (Less people to see her, to know her light.) “And I’m not constantly at risk of being murdered by punks. The plus to working under Lenare.”

“Huh.” Ezreal’s watching her. She can practically feel his eyes on the side of her face as she finds a clear spot on the table and hops up to sit on it.

“Yeah.” There’s a moment of silence that Lux takes to stretch, hands first, then arms, then twisting to crack her back. The pops that result ring out in the quiet. God, she’s been hunched over for hours. Shit. When was the last time she’d eaten?

Now that there’s nothing left to say, Ezreal’s quiet, but he’s not. There’s something off in the way his foot taps, the uneasy set of his grin in his face, his fingers curling in and out.

_They’re hiding things from me, Lux._

No. She’s not going to get involved, because getting involved means— means— ~~darkness darkness darkness~~

She’s not going to potentially put herself at risk for Ezreal, who has everything he could possibly want in Piltover (but she’s played the noble life, remembers the shape of it, the cold smoothness sitting in her chest where her heart should’ve been), who barges into her workshop with no concern for what she’s working on or her time (as if he has all the time in the world himself, as if there was no one else for him to barge in on)—

...Janna help her.

“There’s a hatch behind you,” Lux says, slipping off the edge of the table and under it the moment she sees Ezreal, puzzled, look behind himself. It’s probably a jerk move, but she needs to get her money, and she’d rather he not have any idea where it is. She pops a panel hidden on the underside of the table, grabs the purse that falls into her hand, and is back on top of the table by the time Ezreal turns back around.

“What hatc—” Ezreal starts, but Lux shakes her head and motions towards the door.

“Come on, I’m hungry and you haven’t told me about who’s keeping stuff from you.”

She pretends not to see the way Ezreal lights up at the words. He needs to be more careful about that. One day, someone harder than her will see his heart on his sleeve and hurt him with it.

But that day is not now. Lux is hungry, and Ezreal needs a companion, and she has enough money for food and time to be a friend. The unpleasant future isn’t something she needs to dwell on. Here, he’s safe, and she’s mostly safe, and things will be okay.

Things will be okay.


End file.
